Gone
by newxyorkxloser
Summary: She's standing and she's crying and she's never supposed to cry but she's crying now. CarlyxSam twoshot :D there's a happier ending!
1. she stole everything

Uhm.. Okay.. So I finally got my new computer! :3 And it's a laptop and that means you're gonna be seeing soooo much more writing from me. :D Causecause I always wanna write, but I can hardly ever get on my computer cause my dad needs to work.. Problem solved!

-is sitting in my neighbor's house right now cause I'm taking care of their cat- Yay.. no distractions. :3 This one's gonna be short cause I still have to finish my other story that I started last night, but it's not on this computer D:

I need to stop rambling x.X So.. enjoy!

--

"Oh my god. Oh my god, no, listen to me--" She's standing and she's crying and she's never supposed to cry but she's crying now. Her hands are clenched into fists so tight that her knuckles are white and she's biting her lips so hard to keep from sobbing that there's a tiny line of blood dripping from it. Nobody's home and you'd be the only one to hear her scream but she still won't scream. She won't cry. She won't beg for forgiveness because she won't admit that there isn't even anything to be sorry for in the first place.

"No. I don't want to hear a word you have to say." You're trying to stay strong but you're breaking up inside. Not even that--you're so far past broken. You're so absolutely shattered that you probably couldn't see the pieces under a microscope. How can she possibly have the nerve to fucking cry in front of you? This is her fault, not yours. Fuck, don't look at her. You love her and you can't stand seeing her cry but she's crying and no, don't feel bad for her. But you have to. You can't not feel bad.

God, why can't any part of this whole fucked up relationship business be easy? It took months of sitting and waiting and watching her every move and listening to every word she said and then going to bed at night and thinking about every single thing she'd said and done before you finally had the courage to kiss her. And even then, you still weren't together.

Yes, you were obsessed. You couldn't even try to deny it. You were so, so obsessed with her. You saw pictures of people and decided whether or not they were pretty based on how much they looked like her. You stayed up for hours and just writing "Carly loves Sam" hundreds of times in tiny pink letters all over what must be a half dozen notebooks by now. If you were ever in close proximity with a pen, before you knew what was happening her named was all over your arms. When she got sick and wasn't in school and her mom wouldn't let you in her house to see her, you'd sit in your room and by the fourth day away from her you'd be crying, your arms covered in her name like always and your legs covered with, "I miss you"

And then you finally got together and it was perfect. It was so fucking perfect. You'd go to school and even though she wasn't out yet and she was scared that people would hate her if the knew, the sideways glances and blushing smiles in the middle of classes were more than enough to keep you smiling. How she'd play with your fingers under tables and she'd grab your hands and run them up her thigh whenever there wasn't a light on in a classroom. You didn't really know how you managed to keep breathing at times like that, your breath catching in your throat and your face turning bright red. She's just sit there and giggle and if nobody was looking she'd kiss you on the cheek and grin and then turn around and act like she hadn't done anything at all, but your hand would still be there.

She'd take you to bathrooms and the second she'd made sure that there wasn't anybody else in there, she'd push you into a stall and up against a wall and kiss you. Hard. And you'd kiss her back and her hands were in your hair and yours were under her shirt.

You'd go home and she'd run off to the kitchen and the first time you hadn't really thought anything about it at all, and then all of a sudden she's back and she'd curled up next to you and she's feeding you spoonfuls of icecream. And thank god the blinds were closed, because she might've noticed your eyes watering.

And then Freddie called you today and he said nervously, "You remember that time I said that I fucked Sam?" and you can tell that something's coming after this and you're not going to like it and you think you know what it is and you can feel your stomach tying itself in knots and you feel like you're dying.

You're trying to say something to that but you can't even find the words and you know what he's going to say, because it's not like he'd bring that up and then ask cheerfully, "Can I come over? I think I left my chemistry book at your place," and it wasn't as though he would ever ask to come over anyway. All you can do is make a choking noise and he's saying, obviously before he changes his mind or chickens out or decides that he really should just ask to pick up his chemistry book, because it's sitting right next to you, "I wasn't joking."

You're screaming. You're screaming and screaming and you're telling him to never talk to you again and you hate him and you hate her and you can't stop screaming and the phone's across the room in pieces and you don't know how it got there but you just know that it's there and you're crying and you're falling onto the couch and you're holding the pillow because you don't trust anybody who can actually listen not to stab you in the back so you're crying to the pillow.

And you're slamming your face into the couch cushions and you're trying to muffle the sound of your own choked sobs because you know that she's supposed to be here any second and you can't look weak and you just want her to leave and why would she do this to you? Why would she fucking do this to you?

And she's walking in the door and you're just telling her that you know and that you want her out and that you don't ever want her near you again.

"Why would I ever--" But you won't let her talk. She's not allowed to talk because if she talks then you're going to have to hear her perfect voice and you're going to fall for her all over again and you're going to have to hear her perfect voice cracking and you can't. You just can't. Just get her out and make her go away. The less time you have to spend around her the faster you can just get over it and forget about it and just stop yourself from hurting as much as you do right now.

"How am I supposed to know?" Don't shake. Don't shake. Don't crack. It's all you can think. Anything else makes you think of her.

God, but she's crying. She isn't making any noise but she's crying and she's shaking and she's trying to take a step towards you but she's stopping and she's just crying. Her lip's still bleeding but she's not even bothering trying to hide it anymore. "He's lyin--"

You won't even let her finish that. You won't even let her finish because you can't doubt yourself even the tiniest bit and no matter how sure you are on something you've always taken her opinion over yours in a heartbeat and you can't let her finish saying anything because if you do you'll believe her.

She's looking at you and there's tears all over her cheeks and her eyeliner's running but you still can't help but think that she's so fucking beautiful. She's so fucking goddamn beautiful. Why would somebody like her ever stay with somebody like you? And now she's turning and she's leaving and she's shouting over her shoulder that he's a liar and it's just because he likes you and he wants her gone, and if you're going to believe him then fine, she's gone.

She's gone. She's gone.

And you want her to come back already even if it is true.

--

It's short. I know XD I kinda felt like doing a story without a happy ending for once.. D: It's based a lot on how me and my (ex) girlfriend broke up. . I was in Sam's position. Just.. if you're interested. :D

Hm.. I think I did pretty okay for 45 minutes. :3 Well.. I'll see what you guys think, I guess.

Review? Pretty please? I'll give you a cat! :D


	2. i can barely look at you

Wellll.. :D Here's a second chappy! Cause.. you asked for it XD And I got an idea for it that I liked.

Rawr.. Just so nobody gets confused, you is Sam and she is Carly for this chapter. :3

Er.. Enjoy! (hopefully D:)

--

The sun's setting and you're sitting on top of her apartment building, legs dangling over the edge as you glance down at the crowded city streets below you, and before now you've never really realized how exhausting doing absolutely nothing really can be until now, when you're barely able to trudge into the elevator and walk up the flight of stairs that leads to the roof. You've never realized how exhausting sitting alone in the corner stall in the girl's bathroom to eat lunch could be (not that it mattered, because you've puked up half the meals you've eaten anyway.)

It would've been just a little better if it'd at least been true.

You're curled up with your knees at your chest and your arms around your shins now, rocking yourself gently while you're watching the sky turn from orange to pink to navy, shirt sleeves pulled down over your palms. It's June and you shouldn't be cold but you are. You're cold and she's not here and she won't be because she hasn't even talked to you for three weeks now (except when she hit you in the face with her locker door and said something about you getting blood on her shoes. Maybe she's starting to forgive you a little?)

And you've got hands covered in the same words over and over again and a few pieces of your heart and arms covered in cuts and legs that look even worse and you honestly feel better about everything than you did yesterday and you honestly do think that you're getting better and another 5 months of this and you might be able to stop crying yourself to sleep at night (because that really will be progress, because it means that you'll be able to sleep again) It's weird, really, how much everything hurts you right now, because you knew that she wouldn't stay forever, but you never expected it to be this bad and you never expected it to be like this and you never realized how much you needed her.

You need her.

And you realize that the moment she leaves you.

Sure, you've always sat up at night and thought about her and you've always sat around writing about how much you love her (you'd never written a word longer than "would" before you met her.) and you've always sat around writing "Carly Puckett" all over everything (Sam Shay just sounds weird.) but you never realized that you honestly needed her. It started off as you just wanting to impress her, and then you always wanted her to hug you or feel bad for you or pick you up when you were down, and then one day you woke up covered in sweat from a sex dream about her, and from then on you honestly couldn't get her off your mind, and not just because it was a really _really_ good sex dream.

You're sitting there and you're laying on your back now and you're looking at the first stars popping into the night sky, and you're wondering what it would feel like if it were true.

Christ, if only she would talk to you.

You're rolling over and it's like you live here, because you spend more time here now than you do at home or at Carly's house. It doesn't matter if it's a roof, it's somewhere. And this somewhere happens to have you only 20 feet above Carly Shay, so this is your favorite somewhere.

The ink on your hands is starting to blur and become illegible, your hands sweating it off while you hold them together, pretending that one belongs to Carly (even though every single bit of you would belong to Carly if only she would have you)

You've always hated Freddie. Always. Ever since he showed up and started begging Carly to go out with him and kissing her hand and holding doors open for her, and you'd sit around and mope whenever she would defend him from you, because you were so sure that she knew everything and she was only staying around you because she felt bad and she was secretly going out with Freddie. Okay, fine, you were the overly jealous type--but when you liked somebody like her, how could you not be? Who wouldn't want to be with somebody like Carly Shay? For god's sake, she even had girls chasing after her (you.) And that one time you had a boyfriend?

You were trying to see if she was jealous. And you didn't care that he tried to kiss some other girl (you didn't really care about him at all, honestly) you cared that Carly almost kissed somebody and it wasn't you and you were terrified that she would fall for him and then you'd lose your best friend to some stupid boy.

Lucky you, that was the first day you ever kissed Carly. It was just on the cheek and it was when you were curled up in her bed and she was barely awake so she probably doesn't even remember it, but it was a kiss still. It wouldn't count to anybody else, but it as all you could think about for a week, and her cheek was the softest thing you'd ever felt.

You're asleep and you're wishing that she was with you and you're dreaming off her and you wish that she'd forgive you. You wish that she'd at least scream at you because anything, anything had to be better than right now. Anything in the whole entire world would be better than what things are right now. You just want to hear her voice but you can't and you just want to see her but she's made it absolutely impossible (she even switched out of some of your classes) which you have to admit is a little dramatic but did you really hurt her that badly?

--

It's 5 in the morning and you're still on her roof and you don't remember how you got there and you don't know how long you've been asleep but you're cold and wet and it must've rained last night and you never woke up. She won't leave you alone. She'll never leave you alone, even in your dreams. Her face's everywhere; the slightest trace of her perfume and the echo of her voice down a crowded hallway that you can never get down fast enough.

It wasn't even true. It wasn't even true and she believed him and it's all so fucked up. Why did she believe him? Why why why? Why won't she believe you and why won't she listen to you and why is it like this? It's not supposed to be like this.

You promised that if it didn't work out you'd still be best friends. You promised that nothing would change and she'd love you and you'd love her and she broke every promise. Every single promise because she promised that she'd always trust you.

And if you could only hate her and be done with it, things would be so much easier. It'd be so, so much easier but things never decide to be easy for you because you still love you and you can't burn all the pictures because you're too busy putting them in frames. Why won't you just hate her? Why is it that the only person you can ever hate is yourself; you can't even hate Freddie as much as you hate yourself and you don't even know why it's like that but it is.

You're wondering how he's explaining why his nose's broken and why his face is all swollen and if he's admitting that he got beat up by a girl or if he's trying to look tough again, and then you're wondering if Carly's treating Freddie the same way as she's treating you, or if he's better off because she always defended him. Maybe they're dating.

Pushing yourself up, you're vowing that you'll stop crying. You'll just stop thinking about her and you won't cry because it's over and you'll smile because it happened and you'll stop cutting and you'll start proposing to pork chops like you normally would, and you're going to put this all behind you, and you're going to make new friends. Everything'll be okay. This isn't the end of the world. It isn't. It isn't.

It is.

You're pulling the hood up on your sweatshirt and zippering it and shivering and hoping that you don't get pneumonia because the last time you had it you were sick for two weeks and you were stuck in bed for all of winter break. You'd never been more miserable in your life and then you came back to school and they expected you to have five essays and two powerpoints and seven projects and (literally) 42 algebra papers in in less than two weeks when you were still puking every now and then.

That was about when you gave up on school for this year.

You're on the ground again and you don't know how you got there but you're there and you're crying again and you're almost scared of what your eyeliner must look like but you don't care because you're remembering the first time Carly ever kissed you and the way she was so scared that you would leave her and you wouldn't feel the same and she was lucky enough that you even hung around her even though she was bi.

It was funny, how it always seemed so awful to her that she was bi, but you'd never really cared that you were or that she was because it was something that just simply was, and it'd be weird if it was any other way. It'd be weird if either of you would only date boys. It'd be weird if either of you didn't nearly pass out in 7th grade when everybody first started changing for gym class and you were surrounded by boobs and christ you'd never seen so many in your whole life.

That was a good day. That was a very, very good day.

Christ. One second you're thinking about the first time Carly ever kissed you and then you're sitting there daydreaming (morningdreaming?) about other girls' tits in the locker room. God. You're wondering what's wrong with you and how Carly managed to tolerate you for as long as she did and you're wondering for a moment if she only dumped you because she couldn't stand you.

But she can't act that well. Christ. Fucking Freddie. You want to go back to the school today and beat the shit out of him with a fucking bat but you'll probably get arrested and sent to juvie or have to do a billion hours of community service or some bullshit like that and that's the last thing you want to waste your fucking time doing. Not that you have anything better to do, or that there's anybody who'd sit up crying at night while you were gone.

Chirst. You're not supposed to be such a fucking emo kid. Why're you acting like such a fucking emo kid?

God. You're not even bi anymore. You haven't liked guys for months. If only you'd bothered to tell her, but it'd never seemed important and god, even if you _were_ sleeping with some guy, why would it be him? It's not like you had absolutely no options or something. And she knew that you wanted sex but she knew that you were totally fine with her being scared and not wanting to make a mistake (okay, that one hurt. A lot.) and it wasn't that important to you anyway and you were thisclose to sleeping with her anyway, so why would you go bang some guy?

You're wondering if she really trusted you that little. Well, obviously, considering she dumped you.

Stop being so emo. You're not helping things.

Stand up. You're standing. You're standing and you're holding the door handle and you're wondering for a moment if you're hungover but you remember that you're not because she doesn't like you drinking because of how close you came to being an alcoholic and you still listen to her even though it shouldn't mean a goddamn thing to you anymore what she thinks.

You're pulling it open and this is progress. Progress is good. It's open and you're stumbling downstairs and you never realized how amazing it is that people can walk as easily as they do until now. It's dark and your knees hurt and your foot's asleep and you want to go back outside where it's light because you absolutely hate the dark, even in a place that you know so well.

God, you have the worst taste in your mouth.

--

It's 2:45 and you're just waking up in the last minutes of the english lit class you decided was now known as nap time. English isn't that important anyway. You know how to read (despite common belief). You know how to write. You know how to speak. Why do you need to know anything else?

Even if you'd slept through lunch, it would still be okay because you had a dream about pork chops and bacon and ham. At the same time.

You've never been happier.

It's been seven weeks and she still hasn't spoken to you, but you joined the softball team and no, the girls aren't all men and some of them are actually really _really_ cute but they're all straight as boards and you're wishing that stereotypes were true all the time (except, wouldn't that make you a butch in overalls with self cut hair falling at your ears?)

Okay. All stereotypes that would be good for you.

The funny part is that you're actually really good at softball and they have you batting clean up and you heard somebody talking about bumping you up to varsity but you're scared of varsity because they _are_ the stereotype, only they're terrifying and really really good but _terrifying._ Two months ago you would've never joined because they practice 3 hours a day six days a week and they play three or four games a week once games start and those last like, four hours if they're not home games but now this means that you have something to occupy your time with so you can't think about Carly for extended periods of time.

Which makes life so, so much easier.

You're looking down at your notebook and it's covered in love lyrics and songs about angels and songs about sex and drugs and songs about dying and songs filled with nothing but philosophical ramblings that nobody'll listen because these days, everybody's a philosopher, and you're wondering if everybody's enlightened or if we're just becoming a society of imbeciles who write pretty words.

You're staring, glassy eyed, at the teacher and you're not quite sure of his name even though it's nearly March and a teacher's name is probably on the list of things that you should know after the first week. Then again, he hasn't gotten your name right yet either, so you suppose the whole not caring feeling is mutual, which makes it totally okay again.

You actually want to ditch softball but you're too lazy to think of an excuse and you're too lazy to carry all your shit home and you're too lazy to walk home (which is now the place where your mom lives instead of Carly's house, much to your stomach's dismay. You weren't kidding when you said that the whore didn't feed you.) But god, you don't want to sweat for three hours and listen to your stomach growl and go home and bitch about how you don't have any food and have your mom drop a cracker in your lap and tell you to stop complaining.

The bell's ringing and you're barely aware of what's happening because everything's turned into this mundane repetition and you're not sure how much of life you can take without your best friend. Sure, you need alone time a billion times more than the next person, but not 48 days and 23 hours of it. That's too much. That's like spending 3/4 of your summer vacation holed up in your apartment, never going out and never seeing anybody and god. You're almost forgetting how to be yourself.

You're at your locker and she's next to you and you can feel your heart beating in leaps and bounds and it's stuck in your esophagus and you can't breathe but you don't care because it feels so good to just be near her again. You're scared to peek out from your locker to see if she's still there, but you can feel your knees almost beginning to shake and your blood's running cold but your whole body feels hot and you're excited and terrified and ecstatic all at the same time and you're wondering if you're going to explode.

You've got the courage to see if she's still there and she is and she's looking at you, her arm still reaching up into her locker and you're wondering for a moment if you've got something growing out of your ass because she can't be happy to see you or anything.

Maybe she'll talk to you.

No. You don't want to talk to her.

You're dumping everything out of your bag and you're biting your lip and trying to swallow that feeling in your throat and somehow you're walking away from her without another glance and you're slamming your locker door and you don't look back.

You can't see your name all over her arms.

--

Shoplifting from grocery stores is surprisingly easy. Nobody really thinks that you're going to do anything wrong as long as you put on your cute face and the one time you did get caught you said that you didn't want to carry everything and you had the money to pay for it and all they did was tell you to use a cart. You wander around the store pretending to look at stuff (you do. Then you stuff it in your bag.) and you've got a six pack of smirnoff ice and a package of beef jerky and cereal bars and an icecream sandwich and a couple of rice crispy treats and you're walking out with a box of tictacs in a bag and a receipt.

You kind of gave up on the whole not drinking thing after five weeks and you've been going through 18 bottles a day after softball and you're lighting up a marlboro because booze is so much better if you're chain smoking too.

Fuck. It doesn't even taste good anymore.

You sit there and you're puffing on the piece of shit even though you've never tasted something so awful and you don't know why it sucks all of a sudden but you don't want to smoke anymore so you're peeling the wrapper off the ice cream sandwich while you climb up onto the roof of the grocery store where you and Carly always used to go and make out or sit and talk or watch the stars (okay, that only happened twice.) And you're proud of yourself because it only stings now.

You're wishing that you'd gotten bigger bottles as you chuck away the first bottle and you're wondering why you even bother because you've never been able to get drunk off of six even when you were only in sixth grade but maybe you might because you've hardly had anything to eat the past two days.

Christ. Sitting on a roof getting drunk by yourself and gorging on junk food and beef. You're pretty sure that that's an all time.

But whatever. It's not like it matters all that much to you anyway anymore.

--

You still go to her apartment every day. You sit outside the door for ages and then you get scared that she's gonna come out and start screaming at you because that'd be just like her to know when you're waiting outside of her apartment and it'd be just like her to know exactly what you're thinking and how you want her back even after all the time that's passed and you always secretly wanted to learn to play guitar so that you could write her songs but you never had the patience and you knew you'd be too embarrassed to do something like that anyway, because that was so completely unlike the image you tried to maintain.

It was kind of amazing, really, how the person you really were and the person that the rest of the world saw were so absolutely different. Honestly, you weren't as detached as you always tried to make everybody think and you were kind of a hopeless romantic and you were actually really, really sensitive and strangely enough, shy.

As far as most people knew, you were obnoxious and violent and didn't give a shit what people said about you and you'd just punch their face in and smile.

If only they could see you sitting on Carly's doorstep trying not to cry with love lyrics written over and over in pen on your arms and the half healed scars from the first few days by yourself when you didn't know what you were going to do without her and you had honestly never been so lost and you'd never been so alone before.

Stupid. Stupid how you pushed everybody away and gave everything to her. Stupid how you never told her that you were gay. Stupid how you were always too scared to tell her exactly what was on your mind. Stupid how you were terrified of her knowing just how much you cared about her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You're sitting there now and you're chewing on a cereal bar and it's sweeter than the icecream sandwich and you're kind of scared of what must have gone into this thing to make it have only 90 calories, and then the door's opening and you're scrambling to get up and hide but all you manage to do is fall on your ass and fuck up your wrist and fuck that hurt like a bitch, and you're a deer in headlights now.

She'e looking down at you, sprawled across the hallway floor and you don't even want to begin what she must be thinking and all the things going through her head but she doesn't show anything on her face but her eyes are swollen and that's all you can notice anyway. And you don't care about anything she's done to you because you can feel your heart melting and you just want to get up and hold her until everything's okay again because you still feel like you're being stabbed whenever you even think about her hurting. You wouldn't care if she punched you in the face afterwards and you had to walk around with a black eye for a week (honestly, you'd probably treasure it) as long as you could just make it okay.

You're stupid when you fall as hard as you did for her.

You're looking back up at her and she has the most beautiful brown eyes. She's always had the most beautiful eyes and your heart's always started pounding whenever you saw them and you never really knew why, you just knew that it happened and you always loved the feeling you got in the pit of your stomach afterwards. But now it's just dread and you're trying to brace yourself for screaming but those eyes won't let you do anything except remember just how much you want to be with her and just what you're willing to do for her and you don't want to remember that because if you do you're going to get up and collapse into her arms and she's going to start screaming and then you're going to shatter because you're already broken and you're going to cry and she's never seen you cry before and you won't let her see you cry.

Not over her.

It's been thirty seconds but she still isn't screaming and it's like you're both not allowed to move anymore because neither of you has and it's weird because you know why you can't move but it's not like she cares anymore anyway so why would she be standing at her doorway, paralyzed by the sight of you standing at her doorstep like some puppy that's been kicked and beaten but still comes home to it's master wagging it's tail. That's what you must look like, you're realizing.

But you're able to move all of a sudden, and you're pushing yourself up and fuck, your wrist is so fucked up now and you're wondering if you should bother going for x-rays but then you're remembering that you don't have the money, so you'll just steal a brace from the drug store. You're opening your mouth to try and explain why you're here but nothing's coming out and nothing's going through your mind anymore except that you need to keep standing because it's so strangely hard to do that now and you don't have any idea why.

"Is it true?" She's asking simply. Her voice is a monotone and she's looking at the ground and you can't see her face because her hair's in her face and you're scared that you won't know if you've said that right thing or not and she'll start beating you without warning and she's the one person you'll never be able to hit back.

You're looking at her and she's standing there and she's waiting and she's expecting an answer but you're not sure if you can even speak because your blood's boiling and you're screaming inside but you're melting at the same time and you're breaking down and you can feel your heart fluttering and you don't know what part to listen to because you want her back so fucking much but you don't want to just roll over and die but at this point you're so willing to.

You're wondering what to say and you're trying to find the words again because you knew them for so long but you forgot them ages ago because you figured that you'd never be able to use them anyway and you wanted her to hear them, not have to read them in your awful scrawling, looping half script, part print, part scribble handwriting and have to ask around to figure out what each word said.

"I tried to tell you two months ago and you threw me out of your apartment." You're saying and you didn't want to be cold but you were. You're biting your lip and you're praying that she doesn't get mad and just turn around and walk back inside and leave you standing there crying because you were so close and you let her slip between your fingers again and you know that if you get it wrong here it's over and she's going to move on and find somebody new and you know that you're not going to be able to do that for a long, long time and you don't think that your body's gonna appreciate 20 beers a day until you graduate.

She's looking at you and she's hurt but she's not going back inside--she's taking a nervous step towards you and you're scared and you don't know if you should hug her or stay where you are or turn and run away while you still can but all you have the energy to do anymore is stand and let life come at you however it pleases. You're exhausted no matter what you do and you just want to give up and give yourself to her and let her hold all the strings and decide what's going to happen to you because you just can't be bothered anymore with trying to fix yourself. You just can't anymore.

"Sam.." It's all she says and it's enough. You're looking at her and you know that your face is giving away everything but you don't care because you know that your mouth's bound to give it away anyway. You're biting your lip and why wouldn't she just listen to you the first time?

"No. It didn't happen." You're looking at her and you wish that she had a lie detector so that she would believe you but she doesn't and you're scared out of your mind and you don't want to be let so close to her world again and then be thrown out again because she won't believe the truth. You want her to believe you because for once you're completely and totally telling the truth and you're going to hate yourself if she doesn't believe it.

He left her flowers two days later, you're remembering.

"I don't even go that way." You're admitting and you're looking at her hopefully but you don't know what you're hoping for and you don't know what to expect but you know what you're wishing for and you're wondering if she can tell, because she's always been so smart and she's always been able to know exactly what it is you're thinking, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

She looks at you a bit longer and you're chewing your poor lip to death you're so nervous and you don't want her to leave again because you're in just as deep as you were two months ago from just two minutes standing facing her in her doorway. You're still staring at those eyes and god, you don't even know why you love them so much but you do and it's crazy. It's so crazy what something so simple's doing to you.

And then her lips are on yours and her arms are around your neck and her hands're in your hair and her tongue's in your mouth and you can feel yourself being pulled up against her and into her apartment, the door slamming behind her. She's dragging you to the couch and she's pinning you down and her tongue's still in your mouth and you've never loved kissing Carly as much as you do right now.

--

There's makeup sex. I'm too tired to write it. I've been writing for 3 hours nonstop and I can't feel my eyeballs and it's almost 4AM and I need sleep.

If you were talking to me right now I'd sound like a dying kitten with a problem speaking in monotone. Sorry.. I'm usually more energetic.

Maybe I'll write it tomorrow. maybe I won't.

D: Sleeepppppp.. it misses me..

God. I don't even care that a bug's sitting on the screen right now.

Whoaa mann I just looked at the word count on this shitt. How'd I write all that in so little time?

And have no memory of any of it?


End file.
